


All Flowers, in Time, Bend Towards the Sun

by airiat



Series: Taros Andrethi: Nerevarine [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Clairvoyance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions, Romance, just one giant self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airiat/pseuds/airiat
Summary: After abandoning his best friend and former lover, Taros Andrethi, Elikar Amatius finds himself reunited with him nearly three decades later. With thirty years for old wounds to fester, can Taros forgive him, or will Elikar be left to walk Nirn without him at his side, once again?
Relationships: Male Nerevarine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Taros Andrethi/Elikar Amatius
Series: Taros Andrethi: Nerevarine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864447
Comments: 20
Kudos: 9





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> ya ever just have a story that pours out of you as if in a fever dream? this one's mine.
> 
> here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6iWa0qA5tGtr0fN8C2kxiH?si=swmWlVizTDWrsjZ1A_oDiA) I made for this story!
> 
> This is what [Elikar](https://imgur.com/dQRQlEW) and [Taros](https://imgur.com/KrzJzl8) look like.
> 
>  **Content Warnings:**  
>  This work discusses self-harm to an extent that might be triggering to some readers. The act itself is not described, but the repercussions and resulting emotions are. Parts of the story that include this topic will start and end with a ***. Additionally, themes of PTSD and trauma itself are discussed.

_ “if it were up to me I would live where you live in a small dark corner of your soul mornings I would water the roses and the poppies, and even the wild flowers that grow on the banks of your rememberings” _

_ — Silvia Antonia Brandon Pérez _

* * *

Not much is known of what happened to the Nerevarine after he fulfilled his world-saving prophecy. Some say that he had made a voyage to Akavir, lost to the ancient mists of swirling time. Others claim to have seen him amongst the people in their own villages: a farmer, or a miller, even a beggar. But these claims always seemed to conflict with one other--a dozen Nerevarines in a dozen different villages at the same time. I have never heard a tale that spoke even a fraction of the truth because it’s a truth that is far less glamorous than what is fit for a story. Indeed, when the Morrowind people imagined what became of their heroic Nerevarine, I’m certain that they did not picture it quite like this. 

I met Taros while fighting for the Imperial Legion in the Great War. He was going by Taros Andrethi then, the former his true name and the latter one he had adopted from a character in one of his favorite books. We were soldiers in the same squad, fighting side-by-side in every hard-won battle for the glory of the Empire. When we became close, he told me the truth of who he really was. It was a secret I guarded like a precious jewel.

It was also the Empire that had their needle threaded through every strand of his fate. Before he was Nerevarine, Taros was the Legate of a Legion in Morrowind, a position born of nepotism from his General uncle, a position he was forced into. Despite that, he was exceptional at his job--an inspiring leader with a keen mind that thrived on strategizing--but the military life was still not for him. When he finally snapped under the pressure, he abandoned his post and was subsequently jailed. 

Any Dunmer worth their weight in ash would know the story of what happened next -- any citizen of the Empire, for that matter.

Taros’ crimes were pardoned after his deeds as Nerevarine. Yet, being the kind of honorable mer that he was, he rejoined the Legion to pay retribution for what he had done in his former life. There were only two conditions: that his identity was concealed and that he be granted a soldier’s status, nothing more.

When the war was over and we were both discharged with the highest honor, we parted ways for nearly three decades. Though I was left one of the few who knew who he truly was, I knew not what he did during that time. There was no word from him or of him. It was as if he had disintegrated back into the ash from whence he seemed to have come. Eventually, though, our paths did converge again, as it tends to happen with people whose lives are irrevocably tied to one another. 

I had been working as a mercenary at the time of our reunion, traveling the continent in a relentless cycle of changing patrons. That time, a promising new lead had brought me to Skyrim from High Rock--something about a woman born of dragons. Left penniless as a civilian, I had to travel to where there was coin to be had, no matter the destination. Mercenary work was a life, but it was one that was fraught with loneliness and grief. I had buried too many bodies. 

When Taros and I reunited, it was an early-spring day in The Reach. The last of the winter’s snow was melting from the ground, revealing the greenness of the vegetation that had been lying dormant. Painted against the high mountains of Skyrim, it was a beautiful sight. Indeed, I was so wrapped up in the peace of my journey that I would have passed him by had he not recognized me first.

“Elikar, is that you?”

His voice was as familiar to me as if it had been minutes since I last heard it, not decades. It was a sound long-worn into my mind from hearing him shout it over battlefields, whispered in firelight, and wept when I was wounded and not expected to survive.

“Taros, my old friend!”

We jumped down from our horses and met in a tight embrace standing in the middle of the road. I buried my face in his shoulder; he smelled the same way I remembered, like warm smoke and the freshness of the earth after a rain. When we let go of each other, the grin on his face was wider than the river at my back.

“I would say that it’s been ages, but, well, I haven’t aged a day,” Taros said, his smile curving then into something teasing. 

“Ah, pox with that Corprus nonsense,” I replied, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s been twenty-six  _ very _ long years.”

“Are three decades not but a blink of an eye to you, my Altmer friend?” he asked.

“The events of time age a mer, not time itself,” I informed with a faux philosophical air.

He reached a finger towards the corner of my eye, tracing the skin that had failed to form lines in the time we’d been apart. “Well, now, is that a wrinkle I see there, Elikar?”

“Psh, of course not. I may be mortal, but I still have a couple hundred years to go, Taros,” I scoffed. 

Yet, I could hardly be annoyed at the feeling of his touch, something I’d missed for so long. I betrayed myself by leaning into his hand as it moved to brush my cheek. Then, all too soon, he pulled it back as if suddenly struck by the realization of what he was doing. The echo of his touch lingered.

“I regret having missed even a handful of those,” he murmured, his deep red eyes becoming soft and faraway.

“Well, here I am now,” I replied, voice gruff.

His smirk was back, but it looked deflated at the edges. “Perhaps you could try not to wander off this time?” 

As if I could have ever conceived doing such a thing at that point. Dragon woman be damned.

“Depends on where you’re headed,” I said in a cool tone. “I’m off to Markarth.”

“What a grand coincidence! I am as well.”

My heart was a hammer in my chest as Taros looked at me with brazen adoration. Though his arms were crossed tightly against the iron of his cuirass, he tilted his head and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. It was then that I understood that it didn’t matter what my destination was--whatever I said would become his, as well.

“Well, let’s be off, then,” I said, trying with all my might to temper down my excitement.

When I woke up that morning, I could feel that there was to be something very different about that day. Even in my wildest premonitions, I could never have expected to wind up standing there with him. I would have brushed it off as an errant vision tainted with my own longing. But yet,  _ but yet, _ there he was, as real and as present as the wind that tousled my hair. 

The ride to Markarth was almost as peaceful as it had been when I was on my own. Taros and I caught each other up on the things that had happened during our separation. I told him of my mercenary work, and he told me of his quiet life of doing not much in particular, leaving me to carry most of the conversation. It seemed Taros was, once again, being tight-lipped about his truth. 

Despite the obvious secrecy, though, our conversation flowed with such ease and familiarity it was as if we had never been apart. Were it not for the buzzing in my veins from his presence next to me, I could have even slipped into a soothing lull. Instead, I was hyperaware of every one of our movements and every word that came out of our mouths, preoccupied with making sure I did all the right things. It was just the effect he had on me.

There he was: a mer who had been chosen by a Daedric Prince to slay the Living Gods of Morrowind, to save an entire province from its ruin. Who had endured unspeakable hardship in his long life, but remained gentle, a sheltering oak against its mundane cruelties. I recognized the sheer magnitude of his being, but it was far from the reason why I had fallen in love with him. 

No, that had come when he showed true courage and valiance on the battlefield, how he had put himself in the line of fire countless times to save his fellow soldier. Taros was immortal, but he was far from invincible. 

Did I say “love”? Gods, it was really that bad, wasn’t it?

As we wound through river valleys, the mountains had become sharp peaks that scraped the bottom of the sky. The Reach was always so bright and so clear, even with the low clouds that blanketed the mountaintops. Most feared the hostility of the Reachfolk who dwelled in the cliffsides, but I had my bow on my back and a shot that struck from seemingly nowhere; the threat was far beneath me.

“Would you mind if we made a detour before Markarth?” Taros asked when we had drawn closer to the heart of the hold. 

“What did you have in mind?” I responded.

“My home is roughly a ten-minute ride west of here,” he responded. “I wanted to pick up some wares to sell at the market.”

“Certainly. It’s no trouble--I’m not in any hurry.”

“Thank you. It shouldn’t take more than a moment.”

In actuality, I was in a hurry. It was rumored that the Dragon Woman was just as much of a wanderer as I was, often staying in a place for only hours at a time. Based on what I could feel to be true, she would likely stay for longer than a few hours, but no longer than a day or two. I still didn’t want to take any risks. But yet, there I was, being led blindly along by my adoration in the opposite direction of where I needed to be.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chink in the armor.

The Reach was known for its many Dwemer ruins--we had passed only the mere handful that could be seen from the road. So, I wasn’t surprised when we encountered more the deeper we rode into the mountains. What _did_ surprise me, though, was when we turned up a well-worn path that led to the grandest one we’d seen yet. This ruin rose directly from the stone of the mountain, an imposing monolith of fortitude and grandeur. Whatever purpose it served when the Dwemer still inhabited it was certainly a very important one.

“What a lovely example of Dwemer architecture,” I said to him. “But I’m not seeing anywhere you could possibly have a home.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Perhaps you’re just not looking close enough, my friend.”

By then, we had reached the entrance. Taros dismounted his horse and led her to a small stable off the side where he unsaddled and left her in an enclosure. I followed his lead with my own horse. In that time, nervousness had begun to brew in the pit of my stomach. There I was on the road, then only an hour later I found myself preparing to enter Taros’ _house_. I could hardly comprehend the drastic turn of events that happened in only a heartbeat’s length of time. 

I did not hurry to return to him. Instead, I remained in the stable, my hands stiffly stroking my horse while I grappled with my high-strung anticipation. When I felt it sufficiently cloaked it under a nonchalant facade, I left to rejoin him.

Taros was leaning against the front door waiting for me. A gorgeous picture of poised confidence, his arms were crossed, one leg bent with the bottom of his boot pressed against the metal. His face was lifted to the sky, eyes closed against the sun that brushed against it and that made the Moon-and-Star ring on his finger glimmer. There was a fluttering in my chest at the sight of him and, in my stomach, nervousness made way for a pooling warmth. 

When Taros heard me approaching him, he opened his eyes. With a smile, he pushed himself off the door, opening his arms out wide. “Welcome to my home,” he proclaimed. “The Dwemer called this one Mzthuand.”

“You _live_ in a Dwemer ruin, Taros?” I questioned, eyebrows raised and hand worrying at my chin. “I’d always suspected the Corprus muddled with your mind…”

He laughed and turned towards the door, motioning for me to follow. “I assure you I have all my wits about me. If you would just allow me to show you.”

As I crossed the threshold into the ruin, my confidence in him was far from restored. The scene that greeted me was exactly that, a ruin. The walls were crumbling, debris and fallen columns strewn across the floor. For a brief, fearful moment, I even considered that the building might very well just collapse down around us. But yet, as we walked further into the endless labyrinth of ancient history, the halls grew lighter and the sound of rushing water came into earshot. When Taros opened the brass door at the end of the hallway, I was met with a sight far beyond anything I could have imagined.

The structure opened into a grand hall where the focal point was a tall waterfall that cascaded into a large pool surrounded with lush, verdant plants, and even _trees_. Somehow, even though we were undoubtedly burrowed into a mountainside, rock had been cleared to let in sunlight through great windows on the ceiling. Everything, from the carved walls to the gleaming brass features, even to the floors, was so immaculate that it looked as if the Dwemer had abandoned the place only just yesterday. 

“Did you do all this?” I asked. “Clean it up, I mean.”

“It was this way when I arrived here, actually.”

“But…how could that be?” I questioned. “The Dwemer have been gone for thousands of years.”

“If you could only feel the magic in the air,” Taros mused, shaking his head. “It’s a powerful enchantment.”

“Oh, to have Altmer blood and yet not a magical bone in my body,” I muttered. 

He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, Elikar. You need not understand it to appreciate what it’s done.”

“I suppose so,” I said. “I never thought I’d see anything like this in my life--it’s beautiful.”

“It is. I’m honored to live here.”

I turned my head to look at him, grinning. “If anyone should have the privilege of living here, it should be you, Taros.”

“You flatter me,” Taros chuckled, but the answering smile on his face said that he was not convinced. “Anyway, I’ll take up no more of your time. Let me grab my wares so we can get to Markarth.”

He walked away before I could respond, leaving me with that cavernous paradise all to myself. I found a balcony that overlooked the waterfall, which was where I decided to wait for him. Entranced by the sound of the crashing water, my mind was freed to drift as if carried by the rapids.

I never expected that Taros would forgive me as easily as he seemingly had. Though we hadn’t pledged any sort of commitment to each other, an unspoken form of it endured the hardship of the war and continued for a short while after it had ended. When I slipped out of our tent in the black of night without even a whisper of explanation, I knew it was a betrayal. 

A few times during those years spent alone, I imagined what our reunion might look like if it were to happen. They were always scenarios that burned with his anger, ached with my regret, and ended in us going our separate ways. Permanently. 

I don’t know which god’s good graces I’d fallen into to deserve the outcome that I had received instead. Indeed, I could feel that an otherworldly hand had reached into Nirn and nudged Taros and I back together.

The time skittered by as I was lost in my thoughts, but it still seemed like it was taking Taros longer than it should have. I debated whether I should see if he was alright, or if I was better off just waiting longer. In the end, I opted to seek him out--there was no harm in checking.

It took a while for me to find him. There were so many curious nooks and crannies that I got sidetracked a few times exploring. Of all the places I had gone in my travels, Dwemer ruins had been few and far between, much less ones that were so unfathomably pristine as that one was. 

When I eventually found Taros, he was in a workshop sitting at a table painting a design on a piece of earthenware pottery. He did not notice my quiet ranger’s approach, so I leaned against the doorframe and watched him work. His hands captivated my attention. With long, graceful fingers, they moved with a steady deftness, the brush almost an extension of his body. It was a beautiful sight to watch them move, almost like they were the art themselves.

Those same hands also had a ferocity in them. They had pulled an arrow out of my body, had held me tight against his chest as he drained his magicka to dangerous exhaustion trying to heal me. It was with those hands that Taros had saved my life.

There came the sound of pottery shattering, snapping me out of my reverie. 

“ _Fuck_ , Elikar!” Taros shouted. “You can’t just...you have to...”

He stood leaning over the table, bracing himself on his knuckles amidst the broken pieces of the vase. His breath came in short, frantic pulls, eyes squeezed closed.

My stomach tightened into knots while my mind screamed shame at me for my negligence. As if I could ever truly forget how traumatized he was by what he’d endured as Nerevarine; the times he’d woken up screaming from a nightmare still rang in my ears like an angry wasp. It was really no wonder he’d made his home in the most unassuming, secluded corner of Tamriel--all the better to assuage his paranoia of being assassinated.

“Taros, I’m so sorry,” I said, my throat tight. “It’d been so long...”

I inched over to his scared form, taking care to ensure my footsteps were audible. When I arrived at the far side of the table, I waited. After some time, he pushed himself up with a shaky exhale. Surprise colored his eyes when he saw me there holding my arms out for him, just like I always used to. Without hesitating, he stepped into them and wrapped his own arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His body shook, but I could feel the tension unwinding the longer I held him.

“Why did you leave me, Eli?” Taros’ voice was barely above a whisper.

I had known this question would be coming--my instinct didn’t even have to tell me so.

“I...don’t know,” I faltered. “I think I just needed to be alone for a while, to cope.”

He pulled back to meet my eyes. There was a glistening of tears in the corners of his.

“If you had told me, I would have understood,” Taros insisted. “I, of all people, would have understood.”

I let my arms fall from him and moved away to sit in the chair he’d left unoccupied. I propped my elbows on my legs and held my face in my hands. “I didn’t think of it like that. I was afraid of hurting you.”

“You hurt me more by not saying anything.”

My lips trembled. “I’m so sorry, Taros.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, but I knew him, and I knew that the thoughts were whirling like a blizzard. Taros was never one to speak without running a thousand different words through his mind in a thousand different ways.

“It was hard not having you at my side, Eli. I always felt so safe with you,” he eventually said. “You were one of the few who didn’t care about what I’d done or who I used to be. Who didn’t hate me for it.”

My head snapped up to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of the table, absently sifting through the broken pieces of pottery strewn on it. His face was unreadable, as still as a frozen-over lake.

“How could I have hated you, Taros?” I questioned, incredulous. “You saved so many people.”

“I killed just as many, likely more.”

“An entire province would have perished were it not for you. Maybe even the entire continent.”

He shook his head as if to dislodge the very thought.

“Above all, Taros, you were--are--a hero. Nothing could ever change my mind about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my poor babies 😭  
> comments and kudos always welcomed!


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you actually don't have it all together, huh, Eli?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** discussion of self-harm. portion is indicated, as promised.

We had been walking for a while, ghosting through the myriad hallways of Mzthuand in pursuit of a destination known only to Taros. He had taken the lead while I trailed a distance behind him as I always did when he was seeking escape from the labyrinth in his mind. I did so to watch his back. There was never any true threat, but I knew it made him feel better, let him fully surrender to the process of ending the war within himself. It was a tough battle--he had many torments he needed to contend with.

Indeed, over time, Taros told me every gristly detail of his travails as Nerevarine. There were the visions that slithered in his dreams:

_ “Dagoth Ur would speak to me, trying to lure me to his side. He showed me a life I’d never lived, but knew it as if I had.”  _

The memories belonging to Nerevar that intertwined with his and slipped through his fingers like water:

_ “I didn’t know who I was becoming--incarnate or Nerevar himself. I grieved for things I didn’t know I’d even lost.” _

The terror of contracting a disease that been deemed a death sentence:

_ “I didn’t ask for this. I did nothing to deserve this. Why, Azura? Why me?” _

I could feel his pain, could take it inside me and sift through the layers to uncover wound after bloody wound, but I knew I could never fully understand it. Taros was a strong and formidable mer, one who could lay flat any being with barely a flick of his sword, but yet, he still walked in the haunted shadows of his past. The contradiction of that seemed such a cruel injustice after everything he had done for the world.

Eventually, we’d wound our way through the ruins long enough to find ourselves back at the pool in the main hall. Taros stood at the edge of the water, staring so intensely at the surface it was if he could see every drop it consisted of.

“The water’s warm,” he said without breaking his gaze.

“Is that a suggestion?” I asked, feeling a flush rise in my cheeks.

“Only if you want it to be,” he replied.

I did not have to mull it over long before my hand was reaching back to pull my bow and quiver off. The sound of them clattering to the stone floor snapped Taros’ attention to me, his body shifting automatically into an offensive position, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. However, when he saw what I was doing, he froze in place, eyes widening.

“I’m cold,” I offered, shrugging as I reached for a buckle so I could begin removing my armor.

Taros’ eyes flicked away from me, but his mere presence was enough to reignite my nerves all over again.

It was not as if we’d never been in a state of undress around each other before--we’d traveled together for years, after all. That time, however, there was a different kind of energy stirring in the air. I noticed that the way he had looked at me was as if he was seeing me for the very first time.

When I had finished, standing only in my smallclothes, I didn’t hesitate to wade into the pool. Indeed, it was very warm--almost more of a hot spring. I sank down in the water up to my nose, eyelids drooping as the water soothed my aching body. The weariness from my travels seemed to finally be collecting its dues.

Though I faced away from him, I heard the pieces of Taros’ own armor fall to the floor behind me. It wasn’t long before I then heard the light splash of him slipping into the pool with me. I turned to face him, seeing immediately that he still carried his sword. I stood up in the water to my chest and bit back a smile.

“Are there water monsters here to eat us, Taros?” I called to him, pointing to the sword.

“No, of course not, I just…” He didn’t continue, knowing that whatever he was about to say would be completely nonsensical. 

“Take my dagger if it would make you more comfortable.” I nodded towards the pile of my armor.

Taros conceded, unfastening the scabbard, and left it next to my armor after he’d taken the dagger. Finally, only once I knew that he felt safe, did I finally allow myself to take him in. He was as breathtaking as I’d always remembered in all his powerful, lean muscle underneath tattoos that ran up his arms, over his chest, and down his back. ***There were more scars on his body than I remembered, though: a thick, white gash on his side and many little lines that ran up the inside of his forearms, interrupting the perfect geometry of his tattoos. 

The scar on his ribs very well could have been from battle, but purposeful intent was spelled out the neatness of the ones on his arms. My heart clenched in my chest. At that moment, I  _ hated _ myself for having left him. If I’d stayed, maybe I could have saved him from harm. Then, in the next moment, I wondered if giving him my dagger had been a mistake. I quickly chased away that vile thought. Not with me here, he wouldn’t. And never again would he, if I could help it.***

I watched as he placed the dagger on a shelf of rocks at the edge of the water, then waded in deeper, slowly making his way towards me. He was silent and did not meet my eyes. It was as if he knew what I was thinking of him--let himself surrender to the terror of that vulnerability. 

I hoped that he wasn’t ashamed. He didn’t need to be. I did not think less of him for what he’d done, did not think him weak, pathetic, or any other horrid thing he had sometimes used to describe himself with. To me, he was still every bit the mer that he was the day he stood at Red Mountain to face Dagoth Ur. 

I sunk back down into the water and found a different rocky shelf where I could comfortably sit. Taros continued further into the water, soon diving fully underneath. He was under for a few minutes; I could see the silver of his skin shimmering as he swam even deeper until I could no longer see him at all. He had magicka that would let him breathe underwater, so I had no need for concern. Indeed, when he resurfaced, his breathing was as unlabored as it was before. 

When Taros saw me watching him, he motioned with his head towards the waterfall then swam towards it himself. He disappeared behind the veil of water and I was quick to follow, burning with curiosity about what he wanted from me. When I arrived, he was already sitting on an outcropping of rocks, bare legs hanging over the edge. His hair had been pulled out of its bun and was hanging in a dark curtain over his shoulders, dripping gems of water onto his skin. 

I thanked the gods for giving me the grace of the Altmer side of my family as I climbed up the slippery rocks to join him. It was not long before I was sitting next to him, our bodies the barest inch apart from each other, close enough that I could feel the heat of him. 

“How did you find this place?” I asked after it became clear that he would not speak on his own. 

Taros shrugged. “Azura. Her last gift to me before she went silent.”

He had told me about his connection to Azura, but the stories always fell short on my mortal ears. I believed him, of course, but I had a hard time fathoming what it would be like to be chosen by a god. Though I was endowed with a nearly supernatural intuition, I knew I would never be as special as him. I was simply a dime a dozen.

“She  _ gave _ this to you?” I asked, still just as mystified as I always was. 

He shook his head. “No, she just guided me to it and blessed it so that I would be safe here.”

“Ah, I see.”

He turned, at last, to look at me. “I never have to leave here, you know. I have everything that I need to sustain myself with. I don’t  _ want _ to leave.”

“What were you doing when I found you, then?” I asked, crinkling my brow. 

“Every so often, when I hear a whisper of a rumor—an Altmer mercenary isn’t terribly common, as you know—I leave in search,” he admitted, the tips of his ears reddening. 

“How long...have you been doing that?” I whispered.

“Nineteen years. I gave you some time...waited for you.”

“Waited for me,” I echoed.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect if I ever found you,” he continued. “I didn’t know why you decided to leave. I, at the very least, wanted closure.”

I couldn’t look at him when I asked my next question--the nervousness rose so high in my throat I could barely choke out the words. “What did you...want to happen if you found me?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lower his head, looking down at his worrying hands. “I--I wanted to reconcile with you. I wanted to make sure you were safe and well. I didn’t care if you decided we weren’t meant to be together anymore--I just wanted the peace of mind.”

At that, I couldn’t help but look at him, bewildered by his truth. “You wanted to reconcile with  _ me _ after what I did to you?”

He shrugged again. “I was certain you had a good reason for what you did. And you do.”

“Taros...I...why do you think I became a mercenary?” I asked. “I knew word would spread of me, an Altmer fucking merc, and I hoped that it  _ would  _ reach you. It only took me five years to get a hold on myself, and ever since then I have been searching for you.”

The silence that seeped into the air then was like the loneliness of a rainy afternoon with no one to share it with.

“Elikar, I…” he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead and raked his fingers through his hair. “I forgive you.”

At that, it was as if all my sorrow of the past thirty years was finally rising to the surface. I pressed my forehead into his shoulder, clutching my stomach. Tears sprang forth from my eyes until they became sobs that wracked through my whole body. I felt his lips whisper against my hair and his arms wrap around my shattered form. Little by little, his comfort served to alleviate the worst of my heartache and I was soon floating in the blank void of calm that comes after the storm. Only after I had quieted did he release me, but our shoulders stayed pressed together.

“Azura did a very thorough job, you know,” I croaked through my spent voice. “I never would have found you here.”

His laugh sounded like the joy of seeing the first blooming flowers after winter’s end. “I do know. That’s why I  _ left _ to find you.”

I shared in that laughter. “Good call.”

There was another moment of silence between us, but this time it was relaxed, comfortable even. 

“You never did tell me what’s in Markarth,” Taros said.

“Ah, right,” I responded. “There was supposed to be a, er, “dragon woman” who’s looking for a merc.”   


“A  _ dragon woman _ ? Elikar, what in Oblivion are you doing with me, then? She sounds far more fascinating than this tired old mer here,” Taros joked.

“Oh, pox with that, Taros. She can wait,” I told him dismissively. 

“Speak for yourself, Eli.  _ I’d  _ be interested in meeting her,” he said.

I glanced up at the dwindling light beyond the waterfall. “Unfortunately, I think it may be too late for that today.”

He followed my gaze. “I suppose we did take quite a while, didn’t we?”

“Do you  _ actually _ have goods to sell in the market, or was that just a clever ploy to get me where you wanted me?”

Taros put a hand to his heart in feigned disbelief. “Do you really think so little of me? Indeed, I do. I’m a craftsman.”

“A craftsman? Of what, security blankets?”

“So funny you are,” he muttered. “I’ll have you know that I’m a jack of all trades. You name it, and I can likely make it.”

I nudged Taros with my shoulder before climbing back down the rocks into the water. “I’ll tell you what you can make me: some dinner,” I called back up to him.

His laugh rang out in the cavern as he followed me down. “You go too easy on me.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Taros. Tomorrow, you’re gonna make me a brand new bow.”

We swam back to the edge of the pool where our things were, trading quips like it were any other day on the road. And it did, it felt just like old times. But with the air between us having been cleared and righted, it became something even better than that. 


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy ending we've been waiting for after all that angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** Discussion of self-harm. Portions denoted with *** before and after.

The dinner Taros made me was, indeed, very lovely. He’d tried his hand at Cyrodiilic cuisine: a risotto rich with vegetables and cheese that was coupled with a bottle of Surlie Brothers wine. The food was somewhat overcooked, but it still tasted like my childhood in Anvil. Besides, I knew it was something he’d never choose to eat on his own, so I truly did appreciate the gesture.

Once we were finished eating, Taros showed me just what he had meant by “craftsman”. There was an entire room filled with the things he’d made: wooden furniture, pottery, rugs, and, yes, even blankets. Judging by the sheer volume alone, it looked as if he’d spent every waking moment hard at work. Perhaps he had; thirty years hardly seemed long enough to learn how to make such beautiful pieces.

As the night wore on into the early hours, we both grew more exhausted--exhausted by our vulnerability, by the excitement of being together once again. We made plans to travel to Markarth as we’d originally intended, but what exactly would happen after that was left open. I knew I couldn’t see myself leaving his side again. I could only hope that he felt the same way towards me.

Later, we found ourselves sitting in front of the hearth in his bedroom. It was the most relaxed I’d felt in a long, long while. While Taros had said he felt like I kept him safe, he had once also done the same for me. It’s true that there were many nights I spent in the company of my patrons, but my duty was to protect them, not the other way around. To be with Taros, knowing that he would guard my life as fiercely as I would his, was always pure solace.

“It’s getting late now, don’t you think?” Taros drawled, stifling a yawn. His eyes were half-lidded, and he dangled his wine glass in a hand that hung off the armrest of his chair.

“I do think,” I responded in an equally drowsy voice. My legs were sprawled out in front of me, head tipped against the backrest of my chair.

He sat up suddenly, straight and rigid, staring deep into the flames. His fingers stretched white over the glass in his hand. “The only issue is, uh, I don’t get many guests here, so this is, really, the only place to sleep.”

He tilted his head towards the large bed behind us.

I stood up to retrieve my belongings. “Understandable. I can just use my bedroll--sleep in front of the fire like a cat,” I responded, grinning.

That was an appealing situation for me. Skyrim was cold enough as it was, and the stone walls of Mzthuand did little in the way of insulation. However, Taros still sat there stiffly, as if there was something still not resolved.

“That wasn’t...quite what I had in mind,” he mumbled.

“Oh? Are you giving me your bed, then?” I asked, infusing my voice with velvety soft innocence.

It was hard to pretend, however. I knew exactly what he had in mind, the prospect of which had my nerves on edge. We’d shared close quarters before, of course, but those times didn’t carry the same implications as were there in that moment.

“Elikar,” he snapped, then shrank back at the harshness of his voice. “What I mean is that I’d like to _share_ the bed with you.” 

“If that’s something you’d also want,” he quickly added.

“Of course, it is, Taros,” I told him softly. “I’d like nothing more.”

We then began a routine that mirrored the one we had created together all those years ago. I meditated in front of the fire and he climbed into bed with a book. I relished in the feeling of having that staple of normalcy back in my life. There were few other pleasures as good as that one.

When I had finished, I rose to find Taros still engrossed in the book. He always was when he got his hands on one. No doubt, it was some dense academic text--far from light reading before bed for most, but like flipping through a picture book for him. Taros was a truly brilliant mer whose mind grasped onto different topics with stunning ease. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he was able to master all those crafts in such a short time. He’d probably parsed the most efficient techniques with little difficulty.

“What’re you looking at, Eli?” His voice cut through the haze of my thoughts and spurred my embarrassment of having been caught staring.

I cleared my throat, eyes darting away and then returning to him. “Well, uh, you.”

Taros nodded if that were the most normal, expected thing in the world. “I know. But what about me?”

***My gaze fell immediately to the scars on his arms and my heart ached for him all over again. I found myself walking to the bed where I sat down on the edge, facing him. He watched me expectantly, closing the book and laying it on his lap. 

I dreaded the moment I would broach the topic, but I needed to have the answers. I needed to know how to help him, how to keep him from ever doing that to himself again.

“I had wanted to ask you,” I began, absentmindedly brushing my fingertips against the inside of my own forearm, “about those scars.”

“Ah,” Taros responded, the light in his eyes leaving to take residence in some distant place. “I wondered when this would come up.”

I moved my hand to wrap it in a vice around the other wrist, trying futilely to compose myself. “Is it something you’re willing to talk about with me?’

He let out a heavy sigh. “Yes,” he said. “I think you should know.”

“Are they what I think they are?”

“If by that you mean, ‘did I do this to myself?’, then yes.”

I swallowed hard and looked to the wall behind him, tears prickling in my eyes. “Gods,” I whispered. Seeing the evidence of his pain was one thing, but having him confirm it with his words was something entirely different. “I never should have--”

Taros shook his head with urgent conviction, rising on his knees to be closer to me. He reached out to take my chin in his hand. “Look at me, Elikar.” His voice was hoarse, like he’d just stepped out from the greatest dust storm Vvardenfell had ever seen. I forced my eyes to him, saw the intensity in his own that was like a burning wildfire. “Hear me when I say this: what I did was not your fault.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

He let go of me with a bitter laugh. “I took off Moon-and-Star. Just completely stopped wearing it for a while. Thought I would be fine without it. I was not.”

“What would make you…?”

“I _felt_ fine. My days were mostly content. I read books and made art. I figured ‘why should I have to rely on a crutch to make it through?’ Turns out, it was not a crutch, but the entire _reason_ for my ability to do something other than rot away in bed. But I was so fucking stubborn, and I kept it off. Which resulted in, well...” Taros briefly held up an arm.***

“Why aren’t you wearing it now?” I asked. “You haven’t been since…well, what happened in your workshop earlier.”

“Is it that obvious?”

I said nothing.

“Azura guide me,” he muttered. “It’s going to sound so foolish. Fuck. I just wanted you to see me. To know what you’re getting into. I’m still not healed yet. There’s a lot about me that’s difficult to handle.”

I laughed, and he raised an eyebrow. “Taros, I’ve seen you the entire time I’ve known you. There is not a part of you that is ‘difficult’ to handle. It’s just simply you, the mer that I love.”

I froze at the realization of what I had just said, pressing my knuckles against my mouth. Taros seemed just as taken aback as I was, his lips parted and eyes wide, but he recovered much quicker than I did. 

“You love me?” he asked.

My words wavered when I spoke them. “I do. I love you, Taros.”

The smile that blossomed on his face could have healed the wounds of an entire army with its radiance. “I love you, too, Elikar. I have for almost the entire time we’ve known each other. Gods, I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long.”

It was as if all my worry had been blown away by a gust of wind, leaving me with a heart that sang rapture into the heavens. I moved so that I was sitting right across from him and took his face in my hands. My eyes swept over every plane as if it were the most beautiful piece of artwork I’d ever seen. When his eyes met mine, it felt as if we were the only two souls left on Nirn.

Taros leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine, hands reaching up to grip the front of my shirt. My lips found his, then, and I kissed him with the ferocity of a thousand battles raging at the same time. He pushed me back against the bed and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. My arms snaked around his shoulders, pulling him ever closer to me as if to melt our bodies into one.

“You’re extraordinary, Taros. The most wonderful person I’ve ever known,” I murmured to him between kisses. 

“I love you, Elikar. I love you more than anything” was his answer.

The way we made love that night was a divine euphoria and I was awash in it. Every caress of his skin on mine felt like returning home after a long journey. Maybe that’s exactly what was happening. Maybe Azura herself had woven us into existence out of the same swath of stardust and we were there knitting ourselves back together. I was intoxicated by the feeling of it; I drank him in like I would die if I didn’t get enough. That night, we made love not to mourn the time we had lost, but to celebrate all that we still had ahead of us, and gods, was there so blessedly much of it.

“Can I ask you something?” I mumbled against his chest as we lay together in the firelight afterward.

His fingers brushed through my hair and ghosted over the curve of my shoulder. “Hmm?”

“What made you forgive me so easily?”

His answering laugh was like softly glowing embers as he pulled me even closer to him.

“Life’s too short not to forgive.”

Then, he pressed his lips to my forehead, and I shut my eyes to sleep. Just as I knew that the sun would rise every morning, I knew that our devotion would never expire. Not then, not a hundred years from then. For as long as I had left, it would all be spent with Taros by my side.

I had never felt something more certain than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the month in which i was working on this project was one with a fair amount of hardship, but the joy of this creation pushed me through to the other side. i hope that it can be even a tiny bit of the same for you, should you need it.
> 
> thank you so much for reading
> 
> -find me on tumblr [here](https://airiat.tumblr.com/)-


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